


Fetch

by lamentomori



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-16 13:43:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: Leading a band of ungovernable misfits often leads to having to fetch them back to the fold when they're busy having temper tantrums elsewhere.





	Fetch

There should be three people in the locker room when he stumbles into it. There should be a gloating Bushi, brandishing those ridiculous shears, his reclaimed masks, and the few beard hairs that will be clinging to his wrist tape. There should be a slightly less cool than usual Sanada, wrapping and unwrapping his wrists, pretending to be calm, but being horribly excited. Lastly, there should be Hiromu, either quietly sitting quietly in the corner, or climbing the walls in frustration, because he might have had an incredible match, but he lost. Hiromu does not like to lose, especially when he wanted to win, _especially_ when he told Naito he was going to win. Bushi is there, watching Evil's entrance. Sanada is there, re-wrapping his wrists. Hiromu is absent.

"Where's Hiro?" He gets nothing but a slight grunt from Sanada. "Evil's up?" A nod. "Has Hiro shown up at all?" Sanada shrugs, his attention on his wrist tape, mostly ignoring Naito.

"No. Go find him." Bushi glances over at him, and waves a hand in the direction of the door. "Tell him we think he did very well, and that he'll win next time, and he has to be here to cheer for Sanada." It's delivered as enthusiastically as a someone distracted by watching a match can be. Leading this group of misfits isn't easy, and as much as Naito hurts after his _encounter_ with Taichi, he's going to have to go and fetch the missing Hiromu, because letting him roam the halls will cause more trouble than it's worth.

A trail of _minor_ destruction is his only aide in locating his missing Timebomb. There's slightly concerning red drips alongside the knocked over things, dented walls, and shredded tissue paper. He's hoping it's not blood. There's little Hiromu likes less than his blood being outside of him, other people's blood can be all over everything himself included, but his own should be kept inside his body. It'll be hair dye, or juice, or paint, or something else. Hopefully not Hiromu's blood, he's not sure he could talk a frustrated Hiromu down if he was bleeding.

A snarl, and a bang from a behind a closed door.

"You in here?" Naito pushes the door open, and casts a mildly concerned look around what appears to small storage room that has been hit by a tornado. Whatever was being stored in the room is all over the floor, and there's no sign of the dervish that caused the destruction besides the leather jacket thrown in one corner. A groan, probably, from under the pile of cardboard boxes draws his attention.

"I fucked up again." Petulantly detached, and quiet. Not the Hiromu he's used to, or wants to deal with, but not the worst case scenario. At least he's not petulant and miserable.

"Yeah, you did." Naito kicks at the boxes on the edge, wondering where in the mess Hiromu actually is. "You gonna wallow forever?"

"I wanted to win...I told you I would...and again, I fuck up." He laughs, and Naito kicks the boxes again. "You should have let me fail years ago." He laughs once more, but somehow doesn't give away where he is in the mess.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah...I should have." Naito kicks the cardboard once more, scowling down at the mess. "I'm sore, and I'm tired, and I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit, Hiro."

"Then fuck off."  Naito rubs a hand over his face, and scowls around the destroyed room. The source of the red drips is revealed to be some ridiculous large cup of soda that's been thrown against the wall. At least it's not blood. He probably should leave Hiromu to his temper tantrum, wait through the last two matches, then head back to his hotel room, and lie in a bath until he's less sore, but he can't. Hiromu is his responsibility. He can't leave his little Ticking Timebomb to fume, and burn down his fuse on his own. Being left to his own devices is the worst thing that can happen to Hiromu at times like these.

"Get up." Naito kicks the cardboard again, and spots the long furry coat Hiromu wears to the ring poking out from under a pile of cardboard. He makes a grab for it, and expects to pull Hiromu up with it. It comes out alone, and Naito mentally curses. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Go away, Naito." The petulance is gone, all that's left is the quiet. It's not progress. It's change. Change with Hiromu can be good, or bad, or merely a different flavour of chaos.

"C'mere." Naito leans against a wall, with the furry coat draped over his arm. He likes this stupid coat. He likes the way it drapes over Hiromu's body, the way he holds his head up when he wears it, the way he seems to gain some manner of elegant energy from it. As cool as the leather jacket he carries around with him is, Naito likes the furry one better. It's soft, colourful, and reminds him of Hiromu.

" _Please_ , go away." Naito kicks at the box mess apart, and reveals that it's devoid of Hiromu. "You should be resting, not bothering me." He's slumped beside a shelving unit, staring at the red soda dribbling down the wall. Naito's encountered a defeated Hiromu several times, but this all but broken version of him is not something he wants to deal with whilst he's aching from Taichi's assault.

"Get up." He kicks Hiromu's foot, but is thoroughly ignored. "Hiro." He kicks his foot again, and still gets no reaction.

"Go home." Hiromu hides his face behind his hair, his knees, and his hands before Naito can get a good look at him.

"I can't leave you here unsupervised, idiot. Get up." Naito kicks his foot again, and still gets no reaction. "Hiromu, look at me."

"No. Fuck off." Hiromu's voice is muffled, and hollow. Naito sighs, and kicks his foot again. "Please, leave me alone."

"No." Naito sits down awkwardly beside him, and wraps an arm around his shoulders. "Bushi says you lost pretty, and next time you'll win."

"Next time? Naito...I failed _again_. I don't deserve a next time."  Hiromu comes to Naito when he's pulled closer, and slumps bonelessly against Naito's side. "Please forgive me for failing."

"Shut up, idiot." Naito squeezes his shoulder, and pulls Hiromu closer so his head is resting against his chest, his furry coat over him like it was a blanket.

"I tried so hard, but I still fucked up." He groans miserably, and twists so he's curled around Naito.

"Yeah...you did." Naito ruffles his hair, and stares at the mess on the wall. Hiromu doesn't move, doesn't react, barely seems to be even breathing. Building Hiromu back up is always a difficult task, sometimes he needs to be indulged like this, sometimes he needs to be left alone, sometimes what he needs is something Naito doesn't know, but will try to provide anyway. He should have never gotten involved with the mess in his lap so many years ago. He should have never decided that he'd make the worst Young Lion ever into a proficient wrestler.  He should have never been seduced by Hiromu's gorgeous lips and his pretty eyes. "And you will again." Hiromu rubs his cheek against Naito's chest. There's not an ounce of tension in his whole body, but that means very little.

"I wasted all your time and effort." No tension, no emotion, nothing. Hiromu is a blank slate. He could write anything he wanted on him. He'll write nothing more than what should be there, but it's pleasing to know how much Hiromu submits to him. There's no-one in the entire world expect Naito Tetsuya who sees the frenetic creature that is Takahashi Hiromu so still and quiet, and that's humbling in a way Naito refuses to be humbled by anything else.

"Never." He presses a kiss to his hair. Hiromu snorts dismissively, and Naito squeezes him. "You calling me a liar?" Hiromu makes an oddly distressed noise, and Naito laughs softly at him. "I put my time into you for a reason, idiot. Move." Naito shifts Hiromu so his back is against his chest. He strokes his chest, squeezing, and caressing. His hands slide down under the waistband of Hiromu's tights.

"Tetsuya." He breathes Naito's name, it's barely audible over Naito's own breathing. This malleable version of Hiromu is his _second_ favourite. This is the version of Hiromu that reminds him of the furry coat. Soft, and he can't keep from petting him. He combs his fingers through the hair of Hiromu's groin, revelling in the soft panted noises he makes.  Hiromu's cock slowly hardens in Naito's hand. He moans quietly as Naito strokes him. His eyes fall closed, his cheek rubs against Naito's, his breath warm and damp against it. Naito kisses his temple, his hand speeds up, squeezing Hiromu's cock, his thumb skims over the leaking tip, making him moan.

"Good?" Naito asks softly. Hiromu's hips buck into his hand. "It's good, isn't it?" Hiromu's head falls back against Naito's shoulder. His back arching, his neck bared to Naito's teeth, his hands ball into fists, his nails obviously digging into his palms as he slumps against Naito.

"Yeah." Hiromu's eyebrow knit, his back arching once more, his hips falling into the same rhythm as Naito's hand. He's always been very fluid when it comes to sex, he's always fallen into the pattern set for him by Naito so easily, and it's always pleased him. He wishes they had more time. He wishes he'd taken lube with him, because he'd like to fuck Hiromu, but they don't have time or the lube. They need to get back to support at least Sanada, seeing as they've almost undoubtedly missed Evil's match.

"I'm gonna fuck you senseless when we get to the hotel." Naito speeds his hand on Hiromu's cock up. His other hand gropes his chest, teasing his nipples, petting his stomach. "I'm not even going to let you get to the bed." He murmurs into Hiromu's ear, smirking at the panting, sweating mess he's become. "I'm gonna fuck your pretty, pretty mouth." A thumb over Hiromu's bottom lip, and a bite to his ear lobe has him whining softly. "You want me to? You want me to come down your throat, or should I come inside your ass? I know what I want." Hiromu's close. Naito knows he's close. He knows Hiromu's body as well as his own. "Cum for me, Hiro." His body tenses, his back arched, his hips stuttering, his cock twitching in Naito's hand. Naito pulls his hand from Hiromu's tights, and considers how to clean Hiromu's cum from his fingers. Hiromu's breathing evens out, his eyes open and instantly snap to Naito's. His tongue flickers over his lips, and he twists up to kiss Naito. His normal frantic, nipping kiss, his hands in Naito's hair. He takes Naito's hand, laps his cum from Naito's skin.

"Better?" Naito pets Hiromu's hair back from his face, and kisses him on the forehead. He gets a very sweet smile from Hiromu, that fades into something filthy and more familiar.

"Sorry. I'll fuck up better next time." Hiromu bounces to his feet, and offers Naito his hands to pull him up. "I'll fuck up _so_ good Belt-san will be mine again." Naito lets him pull him to his feet, and catches him into a hug. This version of Hiromu is his favourite, almost literally vibrating with pent up energy, full of mischief, and danger, and utterly captivating.

"Next time doesn't matter. You fucked up, _but_ you'll do better." Naito squeezes him tightly. Hiromu snuggles against him, steps back with a grin. "Take your damn coat, and c'mon. We've missed Evil, we shouldn't miss Sanada too." Hiromu pulls his coat on, and heads for the door, stooping to grab his jacket from the corner by the door.

"I'll do better when we get to the hotel room." He cups Naito's cheek, and kisses him softly. "I owe you." His hand trails down Naito's chest, and he cups Naito's cock. "Then we can plan how to fuck up Taichi, right?" Naito shakes his head as Hiromu leads the way back to their locker room.

Once there, Naito starts gathering things for a shower, and Hiromu takes his spot beside Bushi on the bench to watch Sanada's match. Bushi glances over at him, and messes up his hair.

"A very nice defeat, little Hiro. Far prettier than Evil's." Bushi laughs, and gets  Evil's singlet to the face. The bigger man scowls, and fixes his beard.

"Did you kill Ospreay?" Evil sits on the other side of Hiromu, his thick arm rests around Hiromu's shoulders. Hiromu shakes his head, and Evil laughs. "Next time."

"Maybe...maybe." Hiromu grins over at him, and Evil nods, ruffling his hair too. "So, we're cheering on Okada, right?" Hiromu laughs as Evil smacks him on the head. Hiromu rubs the back of his head, a huge grin on his lips, and tucks his legs up. "Fine, go Sanada!" Naito shakes his head at his ridiculous little gang, and heads for the shower to the sound of them cheering all the way through Sanada's entrance.


End file.
